


Ms Azira Z. Fell and the Trials of Being a Dumb Lesbian in Love

by DJD_Writes



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Author Cannot Write A Summary To Save Her Life, Author Projecting onto Aziraphale (Good Omens), Awkward Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Being an Idiot (Good Omens), Breaking Up & Making Up, Crowley Being an Idiot (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Flirting (Good Omens), F/F, F/M, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Inspired by Music, Music, Musician Crowley (Good Omens), Musicians, Playlist, and every chapter is named after a song lyric from the playlist, they're both dumb and gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27546343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJD_Writes/pseuds/DJD_Writes
Summary: Hey! Thank you so much for reading this !! :)))This chapter title comes from the song, Arms Tonite, by Mother Mother so here's a linkhttps://youtu.be/lv1K0H_4mfwand!! here's the playlist I listen to while writing this :) I don't use Spotify but I feel like it's more widely used so I transferred to over there (during class jdsjfjj) so here it is :)))https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2RxyHbXOwXPHkkY8lFe62D?si=EfjFuilKQ9mih-niafMSVQ
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Anathema Device, Aziraphale & Crowley & Anathema Device & Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Anathema Device, Warlock Dowling & The Them (Good Omens)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 29





	1. Don't You Think It's Kinda Cute?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thank you so much for reading this !! :)))  
> This chapter title comes from the song, Arms Tonite, by Mother Mother so here's a link  
> https://youtu.be/lv1K0H_4mfw 
> 
> and!! here's the playlist I listen to while writing this :) I don't use Spotify but I feel like it's more widely used so I transferred to over there (during class jdsjfjj) so here it is :)))
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2RxyHbXOwXPHkkY8lFe62D?si=EfjFuilKQ9mih-niafMSVQ

Azira was never one to curse. She despised it. Not so many others spewing profanities but herself. The words never came out right and most people tended to laugh at her trying to cuss with her posh voice. Plus, The Catholic Guilt that came with cursing remained, even though she was no longer a practising Catholic, much to her parent’s dismay. However, this situation made her want to get into the habit so very badly. 

Why did Newt have to fall in love with a girl from his psychology class? And why must she be in an indie band of all things? And lastly, why couldn’t Newt, the useless man he was, go without Azira? Azira had no information on modern music (although she had dabbled in playing the clarinet and oboe back in primary and secondary school, so that was mostly classical music and the occasional poorly performed Queen song. She never knew the tunes except for the notes on her sheet music.) But Newt had insisted and begged her (and offered her 20 quid) to go with him and be his “wing-woman”. She couldn’t say no to the poor guy, despite her distaste for any music involving the guitar. He was clueless with women- and anyone in general. If he needed help, Azira would be there for him. Even if it was into a small, cramped, possibly musty and somehow sticky pub to see an indie cover band. 

Newt told her to meet him at his dorm at seven. It was six-thirty and Azira hadn’t the foggiest of what to wear to an indie cover band performance. Would she look too buttoned-up? Too little? Why did she even care? Not like anything would go down. She was just there to look out for Newt and try to have a good time. 

After, an admittedly long, mental debate, Azira just slipped on a light-blue cable knit jumper and tucked it in fashionably to her tan trousers, slipping on her worn brown loafers. She carefully put on her favourite earrings. She had bought them when she left home, and she wore them practically daily, just as a small reminder of her freedom. They were a very classy rendering of nude women in gold wire, just to proudly out herself to everyone she met, as if her clothing didn’t give it away. Then, she grabbed her small worn bag (fully prepped in case of emergency. You never know when you’ll need self-defence spray, or bandages, or floss, even.) The blonde tossed her curls into a messy half-up situation and dropped her strawberry lip gloss into the aforementioned bag before running out. Her jumper was warm enough that she wouldn’t freeze on the way to Newt’s or on the way home. It was too late to grab her coat now anyway. 

The mid-October breeze rushed around her as she made her way to the dorms Newton called home. She already saw him standing out front, pacing like a madman. The blonde called him over and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. 

“Hey!- It’s going to be okay, Newt. You can do this!” She tried to encourage her poor friend.

“Oh no, Azira- It isn’t. She is so very out of league- fuck, you’ll see it tonight. She’s going to reject me in front of all of her bandmates and it’ll be humiliating and then awkward in psych tomorrow and-”

Azira paused his ruminating. “It’s going to be fine. You’ll see. She must like you if she’s invited you. Give it a shot! What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity.” Newt offered. Azira sighed and joked, 

“You lost it when you first met her, mate.” She teased and Newt let out a bark of laughter. 

“I did! God, she must think me mad.”

“Yeah, mad about her.” Oh, Azira would think back on that line later proudly. Very clever. “Now let’s not be late. Maybe we can get you a drink before they go on.” She pat Newt’s back reassuringly, and he nodded, taking her to his rather small car, Dick Turpin. 

  
  


He pulled up to a small pub with an underground entrance and parked. “Here we are,” Newt said, his voice croaky, sounding more like it belonged to Kermit the Frog having an anxiety attack, rather than a very awkward 20-year-old. He reached shakily into the pocket of his denim jacket and pulled out his inhaler, taking a deep puff. Azira gently coached him through it. Once Newt was able to breathe again, they both unbuckled and stepped out of the car.

“C’mon, Newton.” She gestured for him to follow her. And reluctantly, he did. They entered the “speakeasy”, flashing their IDs at the door. Azira looked around, amazed at what greeted her. This pub wasn’t as bad as she expected, although, much to her dislike, it was terribly crowded. However, unlike her previous notions of pubs, it wasn’t filled with aggressive men, lumbered over pints but instead with a vibrant crowd of people of all identities and an impressive variation of hair colours. There were a variety of rather mismatched, vintage tables facing a smaller stage, as well as a bar. Newt made some anxious non-English noises before nipping off to the said bar to get himself something to settle his nerves, leaving Azira to find a table for them. She managed to find one that wasn’t too sticky, just close enough to the stage for Newt to fawn over the girl who had invited him, Anathema. 

After some scrambling around on Newt’s behalf and some anxious ruminating on Azira’s, they got settled in and the already dim lights in the bar went lower and a light appeared on stage. Then, Azira’s world paused.

Fuck.

Up on stage was the most gorgeous girl Azira had ever seen. She could barely take her eyes off of her, she was that tantalizing. If Azira was called home, she would be glad, for the redhead would be the last thing she would ever see. Part of her wondered if she was heaven-sent But after examining the woman’s outfit, she knew she was positively sinful. Clad in a rather scandalously short black crop top and the tightest leather trousers that Azira had ever seen, she was certainly no saint. The trousers rose past her belly-button, leaving a few glorious inches of skin exposed and the blonde practically began drooling. She wore boots that made her legs look even longer and Azira long even more for the redhead. Azira eventually pulled her eyes forcibly away, feeling guilt build up in her for staring and objectifying this rather lovely woman ahead of her. Was it even objectifying? Azira had no clue. One of the odd things to think about as both a horny lesbian and a feminist. 

The blonde steeled her feelings before looking back up at the stage. This was a mistake, as her gay panic picked up once again, this time her thoughts hyper fixating on the red waves the bandmate had. She wondered how soft they were- if she could braid them, maybe. What if the other had an undercut? Oh goodness, her knees were bloody jelly, thank god she was sitting. She forced herself to stop thinking of such things and just focus. Focus on the songs they’ll possibly sing. She hoped they’d be one hundred per cent family-friendly songs, probably about friendship and not kissing before marriage. Maybe a bit of gospel rock? 

Alas, she was wrong. Fuck.

The song list was assuredly not PG or bright and happy, much to her and Newt’s dismay. 

Quite the opposite. They truly were fucked.

  
  


The redhead took the mic after slinging a sleek red guitar over herself. She walked up to the edge of the stage, giving Azira even more of a view, and began to speak, “Good evening, everyone! We’re the Serpents, and we’re going to do a show for you guys but, before we begin, we’ll introduce ourselves. Ana?” Azira could die in her voice. It was going to kill her in a minute, she swore. God, why didn’t she curse more?!

There was the girl that Newt had a crush on. She was pretty, Azira could tell as much, with dark long hair and round glasses. She was sitting at the drum set and was gazing at Newt with a bit of a fire in her eyes. Her eyeliner was impeccable, Azira noted. If she and Newt ever went out, she would ask her how she did that. And not for her bandmates number. She waved. “Hi,” oh she was American, “I’m Anathema, she/her pronouns please, drummer, witch and a bit of a-” she did a little drumroll, “bitch.” An explosion of laughter. 

The next to go was a younger kid with long hair, standing at the keyboard. They looked up and said, “I’m ‘Lock- uh they/them? And I play the keyboard, obviously.” They shrugged. They seemed a bit shy and Azira’s heart clenched in empathy. She was also extremely stage-shy and doubted she could ever even stand up on a stage without passing out immediately. Although, if she was up on stage with that guitarist, maybe she wouldn’t mind passing out- Christ! Stop it Azira!

After that was yet another younger person, with what Azira presumed was a bass strapped to them. “Hey! Pepper. She/they. I play the bass, by the way.” 

Now it was Redhead’s turn, and Azira felt her heartbeat quicken. She looked up at the other attentively, just waiting for her to speak. 

“And I’m Crowley, she/her, and I sing and play this old thing,” She held her guitar out, “And I got these guys together. They might call me AJ to annoy me throughout this evening and for that I am sorry. So please just call me Crowley,” then, she caught Azira’s eye, and she leaned down. 

Azira gasped and just stared rather dumbly, a blush rising to her cheeks.   
“‘Cept you, angel. Feel free to call me whatever you’d like.” Crowley said aloud, although it felt like it was spoken only to Azira. Her breath stopped and now she was frozen and god- was she nodding? No! Stop that!

And then, as nothing had just happened, Crowley popped back up and looked at the whole audience before calling out, “Let’s get going, yeah?” She was greeted with a loud sound of agreement. She looked to her bandmates and was returned with a nod before Ana began to count off with her sticks.

Azira heard them begin faintly. CROWLEY COULD SING TOO?! Oh, she was FUCKED. And not in a fun way. God, Newt, why?


	2. It's Almost Unnatural How Lame I Act Around You.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seeing her from on stage, Crowley finally sees her angel up close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Notice the uh tag changes? I'll let y'all know when more change though. :) 
> 
> As will be the case for this entire fic, this chapter title comes from a song and this one is from I Want To Be With You by chloe moriondo (here's a link!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGfL2cxa_Bg )
> 
> and here is the playlist that I listen to while writing :) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2RxyHbXOwXPHkkY8lFe62D?si=YHISxhtkQU2wpZ9hjaWsKQ
> 
> Thank you so much for being here lads! I will update this as quickly as I can but I am a student and as the holidays approach, it may get a bit more difficult to do so. The goal is to try to update about once a week though :)

Crowley was sure she was dead by now. She had to be. There was no way for her to be alive since there was an angel in the front row. Her angel. Why was she even thinking like this?? Antonia Crowley wasn’t one to get attached, or even be attracted to angel-types. What was the angel even doing here? She stuck out like a sore thumb here. Well, not a sore thumb. She was a beacon of light among the dull crowd and Crowley was a bloody moth. A moth that had to focus, dammit, and stop her mind from being filled with an angel.

After the others’ introductions, Crowley was certain she was calm enough to control herself. She could normally get lost in her stage persona and not have many personal emotions bother her at all, just become her usual cool, suave self. However, the angel wasn't going to let that happen. As soon as she said her name, she just  **had** to fuck it all up by leaning to that gorgeous blonde and saying, 

“‘Cept you, angel. Feel free to call me whatever you’d like.”

This rather not well-thought-out decision, that sat on top of the other poor choices she had made in life, set off Crowley’s internal monologue to go a little something like this:

_ God- get some self-control! _

_ I will but- do you think she…  _

_ No!- that is SO presumptuous. _

_ But, no straight woman would wear those earrings,  _ she was looking at the gold wires dangling from the blonde’s ears,  _ too much for them- size-wise and titty-wise  _

_ Yeah, I suppose. Fuck, Anathema’s going to tease you  _ **_so_ ** _ badly later. Wait- where is her bloke. Oh my god- HE’S SITTING NEXT TO THE ANGEL! Are they friends? Better be just friends, if Ana’s so enticed by him.  _

It felt like time-sped back up once she looked out of the other’s eyes and back to acting normal. Wait- was she nodding? Nope! Don’t contemplate it.

Crowley was rather proud of how well she had cultivated a set-list, especially for a small, LGBT-friendly space like the one they were playing that night. It was chock-full of their gayest songs, Crowley not wanting to waste a chance to simply sing about women. However, seeing a certain angel, her list shifted. Considerably. She hoped her bandmates would understand later, at least.

Thank goodness they all knew an exorbitant amount of songs about pining and instead of having to, sadly, banish an angel from her mind, she was able to embrace the feelings bubbling to the surface over the sight of such a beautiful girl.

Suddenly, she was backstage and putting her precious guitar back in her case. The set was over sooner than Crowley had ever expected, and she couldn’t seem to tell whether that was a good or bad thing. Negative: She could no longer gaze at the angel and practically flirt with her without having to talk to her. Positive: She could speak to her. Maybe under the pretence of dragging Anathema to see her psychology buddy. Sure, Ana would tease the living shite out of her but, it would be worth it. Even if she got rejected by the angel immediately.

But hopefully, she wouldn’t be.

That would be hard. 

Her poor lesbian heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

Crowley got snapped out of her pondering of potential heartbreak by a tan hand grabbing hers and pulling her out from the back. She squeaked, “Anathema, what the hell?!”

“Newt is waiting for me.” The American reasoned, her tone filled with a bit of sass.

“And that sounds like a You Problem so-” Crowley sassed back.

“And your angel is waiting with him. Don’t act like I didn’t see you making moon eyes at her all damn night.” 

Sometimes Anathema was too good at reading her. 

“Fine. I’ll go with you.” Crowley gave up her playful resistance. Of course, she’d go with Anathema anyway, with or without the angel there. The blonde was just a bonus.

A big bonus.

After being dragged by a very strong American, she soon found herself standing across from the angel, who was looking back at her. Anathema was chatting with Newt and noticed the shocked, gay silence between Azira and Crowley so, she nudged Crowley rather forcefully, who yelped in response before looking down at the blonde. 

“Ngk… I uh… Hello,” She managed. Somehow, all of Crowley’s brain cells had left the second her eyes focused on the girl in front of her. Fuck.

“Hello, dear! I’m Azira.” The angel introduced herself, holding out a hand to the redhead who was possibly combusting. 

While Azira gazed up at the redhead, her pale blue eyes taking in her visage, Crowley’s mind, or what was left of it, was gay panicking and saying something a little like this:

_ Azira. Azira. Azira. Pretty, unique name. Really pretty unique girl. Hand. The hand is being held out. Take it? Hold it? Shake? It looks so soft.  _ **_She_ ** _ looks so damn soft. Hhhhhhhhng fdgfjgskj. _

“My dear?” A posh voice-prompted, causing Crowley’s brain to pause and look down at the girl once more. 

“Oh! Ngk, sorry- tired. Being up there. You know.” Crowley explained in somewhat broken words. She hoped the other understood. Then, she noticed the hand being held out to her and without thinking, took it, interlocked her fingers with the blonde’s, admiring their polish for a second, before letting their intertwined hands dangle between them. “Crowley.” she pointed to herself with her spare hand.

After a moment, Crowley noticed her mistake, “shitshitshit, sorry!” She quickly released her hand and hid it as best as she could in her minuscule pockets. 

Then, the angel-  _ Azira,  _ she mentally corrected- surprised Crowley. She giggled. She  **giggled.** Like the sound of a million, heavenly bells going off in this dingy pub. She giggled and glowed and Crowley realized she was completely whipped. One giggle and she was a bloody goner. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Crowley. You guys were very good. And I’m not one for be-bop.” 

“Be-bop?? I uh- that wasn’t be-bop, angel. You can everyone here and they wouldn’t say that’s bebop. I promise. But thank you anyways.”

The blonde’s cheeks flushed yet again. “Oh! My deepest apologies. My typical music tastes don’t extend past the 1920s. Oh, and ABBA.” She chuckled awkwardly.

“Nonono- no need to apologize! I uh- I like ABBA?” Crowley offered, her hands moving awkwardly with her words. “God, I’m cocking all of this up, aren’t I?” She asked the blonde.

“No, not at all! I’m already enjoying this conversation, actually.” Azira admitted. 

“Oh, you are?” Azira nodded enthusiastically, her curls bouncing with her nods. “Good- uh great.”

Azira nodded once again. “Uh yeah it is- umm… Do you go to school with Anathema? Same grade? What do you study?”

“Yes and I… Istudybotany.” She said quickly, her cheeks going up into flaming red with embarrassment. 

“Hm? Could you repeat that again, dear? I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that.” Crowley felt her knees buckle at the soft tone and the endearments that came out of Azira’s mouth.  _ What would it feel like to kiss her? Probably sweet and soft, just like her. Maybe she’d have flavoured lip balm on. Strawberry? Vanilla? Mm- STOP _

“I um… well, you see I uh… I study botany. M’good with plants.” She mumbled and much to her delight, Azira lit up even more at that. 

“Oh! That’s so neat! And it explains why I’ve never seen you before. I’m an English Lit major. And I love writing, I really do. And reading. But goodness! It is so much more repetitive than I thought it would be! And…” The blonde continued her short rant, giving Crowley the opportunity to just gaze at her. If she were any more besotted, her eyes would be literal hearts. It was insane how fast she was hit with an intense attraction. 

Eventually, Azira stopped and Crowley tilted her head in confusion.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to talk for so long and I didn’t mean to bore you with things you probably don’t care about. I should probably get going anyway, I have a class first thing in the morning.” She turned to leave and Crowley jumped out of her stupor and grabbed her arm gently. 

“Wait! Don’t leave just yet, angel. You didn’t do a thing wrong, promise. Plus, I’d appreciate talking to you again sometime, if you’d like. Even about bigoted professors or awful analyses. Could I get your number? Maybe? Before you head home?”

“You- you want my number?” Azira asked, a perfectly-shaped brow raised. 

Crowley just nodded dumbly in response. 

“Oh-” She nodded in return. “Here uh… Hand me your mobile,” She held out her hand for Crowley’s phone, and the redhead scrambled to get it, carefully extracting it from her too-tight leather trousers. 

“M’phone,” Crowley said, her brain too fuzzy to think of a better phrase.

“I see, dear.” Azira chuckled softly at the other’s awkwardness before carefully inputting her number into Crowley’s mobile. Once that was done, she handed it back to Crowley. “Text me? I’m awful with the whole-technology-thing but I’ll try to be better for you. Most people prefer to text, right?” 

All she could do was nod.

“Oh good- see you.” She waved as she left the pub, a string in her step.

Crowley waved back to her and muttered a small, “bye, angel.” She felt frozen in the gravity of what had just happened. She had the angel’s number but had acted like a total knob. How did she get her bloody number? It didn’t equate in her mind. But, if Azira liked her even when she was an awkward mess, hopefully, she’d actually  **like her** . That’d be something Crowley had never even had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies- they are so awkward akakaka- maybe I project onto Azira too much


	3. Come Be Lonely With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> coffee!! they get coffee!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am so sorry it has been taking me so long to get this chapter out! A lot has happened in my life but!! I managed to get this out and I'll to be more consistent from now on :)
> 
> This chapter title comes from the song, 'This Side of Paradise' by Coyote Theory (link!! https://youtu.be/sniVezVELSM )
> 
> And here is the playlist :) (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2RxyHbXOwXPHkkY8lFe62D)

It had been a day and Azira had been waiting anxiously for Crowley to text her the entire time, her mind occupied with gorgeous guitarists with very talented fingers. Even in her lectures, where she typically was entirely engaged, she was completely unfocused and thinking about Crowley. She didn’t know how long people took to text normally, as she barely texted anyone. Technology wasn’t her forte. When she moved to university, she had finally decided to buy a smartphone, and even then, it was the cheapest one they had in the shop. Now, she was attempting to start an essay and ruminating over the day previous’ events. God, she hoped she hadn’t completely scared her off with her awkwardness and ranting and-

Oh my god.

A ping! From an unknown number!

Azira dashed to open up the text and found several in succession, 

_‘hey, angel :)’_

_‘it’s me’_

_‘crowley.’_

_‘from the band? in case you’ve forgotten.’_

_‘just wanted to give you my number’_

_‘in case you wanted it.’_

She’d loathe admitting it, but she squealed from excitement. Then, she proceeded to take two minutes constructing what she hoped was the perfect response.

_‘Pleasure to hear from you, Crowley! Of course, I remember you. How are you today? - Azira Z. Fell’_

Azira then set Crowley’s contact and set down her phone to go back to her essay, assuming that she wouldn’t get a message back for a while. But she was quickly proven wrong by her phone pinging once more.

And once again, she sprang up to check it.

_‘i’m good. you?’_

_‘I’m doing alright as well, thank you. Just writing an essay. What are you up to, my dear? - Azira Z. Fell’_

The response was immediate, and it shocked Azira a bit with its speed. _‘not much. trying and failing at studying.’_

Azira pouted at that. _‘Oh no- is there anything I can do to help you? - Azira Z. Fell’_

_‘well, I was about to go get coffee and work there- join me?’_

Azira let out a squeal and began freaking out for a moment. Then, she released she hadn’t yet responded. She didn’t want to seem uninterested, so she sent a, _‘Yes of course! Which place?- Azira Z. Fell’_

_‘good. do you know Tracy’s?’_

_‘Perfect. I’ll see you there, then? - Azira Z. Fell’_

_‘yep- how far are you?’_

Azira thought for a moment. _‘About ten minutes. I’ll start walking over in a minute. - Azira Z. Fell’_

_‘good. see you there, angel ;)’_

Azira felt her cheeks heat at the wink emoticon while the part of her that wasn’t entirely gone on Crowley wondered why in the hell she was getting so sappy over an **emoticon**. After a second, another message came in

_‘*:) sorry !!’_

Azira immediately sobered, understanding the mistake.

_‘No worries, dear! - Azira Z. Fell’_

_‘great, thanks angel’_

And once again, the blonde was no longer free from those damned butterflies in her stomach. Always causing a ruckus. Shameful. Why was she so attracted to _Crowley_? That’s not a good question, actually. Why couldn’t she be? Crowley was gorgeous! And sweet, if the interaction at the pub had anything to say about it. And she was hooked on her already, swooning at the thought of being around Crowley. How would she be able to even survive if her heart beat unevenly whenever she so much as thought about the redhead. 

Did she even want to survive, if that meant going without seeing Crowley again?

Azira went to the coffee shop, risking it all to see if she maybe had a shot, a chance at this being more than a friendly outing, that giving Crowley her number was taken as she had implied it, a flirty gesture. Azira was nothing if not totally and completely clueless when it came to anything with romance so maybe she had done the wrong thing. She hoped she hadn’t. Oh, goodness what if she had messed all of this up and lost her chance with the most perfect girl she had ever met and-

Crowley looked up at her and waved.

**_Fuck._ **

Here come the butterflies again. 

Coffee was admittedly not that bad. After getting over her initial embarrassment, Azira managed to have an actual conversation with Crowley- their talk spanning from their individual assignments to their favourite beverages to their childhood pets and eventually, to their romantic lives. 

“Wait wait wait wait- how is a girl like you _single_?” Crowley asked Azira, moving her coffee stirrer in the air to try and emphasize her point. Azira felt her cheeks heat up at the question, unsure whether to be embarrassed or flustered. 

“How do you mean, my dear?”  
“Well you’re… you ‘n all. Not many girls like you, if I have to be honest. Figured you’d be taken. Lucky lass, or lad, would have you then.” 

Azira’s cheeks burned. “I erm-...” She tried to think of a somewhat witty response and failed entirely. “Just lasses for me. I’m a lesbian.” She shrugged. “But yeah- completely and devastatingly single, me. Can’t imagine why- except for the fact that I’m entirely too boring for most people. And awkward, though you’ve already seen me at my worse.”

“Really? I cannot imagine you being boring. Maybe I’m biased.”

“And why would you be biased, my dear?”

“Well, your calling me your dear with that ridiculously posh voice of yours definitely made my bias worse.”

“Ridiculous?”

“Well- not ridiculous. I quite like it, honestly. Every posh person I’ve met has been rather insufferably stuck up. But not you! Promise, angel, I like you a lot already. If that isn’t obvious. I don’t go to coffee and have a study date with every pretty girl I see at a concert.” 

Azira sputtered at that. “Date? Oh- so I wasn’t reading into everything? I thought I was looking into every single detail- and that this was absolutely hopeless for me. Thank goodness I wasn’t! Oh- I must be making a complete fool out of myself! Oh, dear-.” 

Crowley quickly interrupted her. “No! You aren’t making a fool out of yourself at all! I realize I definitely should’ve explained my intentions from the start. Sorry, angel.”

“Uh no! No need to apologize. At least now I know I can be open with how absolutely flustered I am around you.”

“Really? Well, angel, I must admit, I feel the same.”

“Oh, you do? That’s rather good then, yeah?” Azira shot Crowley a soft smile and Crowley felt her heart melt into a puddle at the bottom of her boots.

“Yes- yes of course, Azira.” She nodded rather enthusiastically. 

And they chatted  
  


And chatted

And chatted

Until Azira checked the time and realized the café was closing down. “Oh goodness! We’re keeping these poor people here!. We should probably get going. It’s rather late.”

Crowley knocked out of her enamoured stupor by Azira’s words. “It is. Shit, sorry.”

“No need to apologize, dear- care to walk me home?”

“Well, actually, angel, I drove here so I can drive you home.”

“Oh you did? That’d be excellent, actually. Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem, Azira. Let’s get going, yeah?” Crowley got up, gathered her things, and tossed on her leather jacket, walking to the door and waiting for Azira to meet her there. The blonde scrambled to get up as well, getting her laptop and coat before meeting Crowley at the door. “Ready?”

“Ready.” She followed Crowley outside into the cold, instantly moving closer to her in response.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this little creation of mine! :)
> 
> I appreciate all of your comments/hits/kudos immensely! 
> 
> Have a good day/night/afternoon wherever you are!!


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